


Twilight Burning

by Rina9294



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-13
Updated: 2004-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 15:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: What will it take to make a Jedi break a crucial tenet of the Code?





	1. Halo

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

co-written with Destina Fortunato (destina@ix.netcom.com)

 

Notes: A songfic cycle based on songs from the Depeche Mode album "Violator" - a darker version of the Q/O relationship as it might have been... 

 

 

_You wear guilt_

_Like shackles on your feet_

_Like a halo in reverse_

 

Eyes on him, again. Obi-Wan felt those eyes, could sense them climbing his body, as clearly as if hands had tossed aside his clothing and begun harsh explorations underneath. Trouble was, it was only a stare. Nothing palpable, nothing dangerous about a random glance. Right?

 

He turned, but couldn't quite catch the midnight blue eyes in the act; Qui-Gon dropped them too quickly, having read Obi-Wan's body in the midst of moving. His Master was the picture of serenity, going over recent research reports, catching up on his reading. Obi-Wan felt a rising irritation, at himself for not confronting Qui-Gon, and at Qui-Gon for choosing not to act on this...this...whatever it was.

 

Obi-Wan was no longer a boy, not in need of constant instruction, reminders about the Code and the Force and whatever else Padawans need Masters for. He needed his Master for something else entirely. And Qui-Gon was too...traditional...too locked into duty to allow himself more than that occasional, brief, searing, secretive gaze.

 

It was, after all, not a thing which was permitted. Padawans and Masters were forbidden to engage in any sort of relationship beyond the scope of learning. Love wasn't supposed to enter the picture, at least not the kind which was keeping Obi-Wan up at night lately. Not any kind of love, in fact, beyond the love an apt pupil might have for his teacher.

 

What else might the teacher have to teach, if he were permitted to break that boundary?

 

_I can feel_

_The discomfort in your seat_

_And in your head it's worse_

 

In his seat across the small room, Qui-Gon kept his eyes locked on the printouts in his hands, reading the same paragraph time and time again and still not retaining any of it. When had his apprentice's mere presence become such a distraction to him? The attraction he felt was not right, it was not allowed, it was...not listening in the least bit to the stern lectures his brain had been attempting to force on it.

 

Where had these emotions come from? When had he stopped looking at his Padawan with the simple pride of a teacher for his pupil? When had it changed to this damning lust that threatened to overrun his rigidly shielded thoughts, leaving his emotions naked before one the person he dare not reveal them to?

 

Naked... The word brought with it a swirling image of Obi-Wan's lean body, muscles taut as he strained toward some unseen, unthinkable objective, head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, golden-brown skin slick with moisture, hands reaching out imploringly.

 

Rattling the reports in his hands as he flipped a page over even though he had no clue what he had been reading, Qui-Gon tried to put aside the desire to lift his eyes and look at his apprentice again. Obi-Wan was watching him now and he could not, would not let this come between them. It was his duty to train the younger man to be the best Jedi possible and he would not fail in this matter.

 

For a moment thoughts of Xanatos, his second - failed - apprentice crowded forward, presenting an all too clear picture of the price that had been paid for his lapse.

 

Never again. Obi-Wan was so close to his dream of becoming a Knight. While Qui-Gon freely admitted that he had little gift for prescience, he knew in his heart that his Padawan was one day going to be one of the Order's best champions. The determined, hotheaded boy who had so stubbornly insinuated himself into an embittered Jedi's life that he could not imagine what it would have been like without him had disappeared. In his place was a young man brimming with confidence in himself and the Force, sure that he could do anything by will alone.

 

I would that it were so, Padawan, Qui-Gon sighed to himself, knowing that there would be no rest for him this evening. His emotions were so tightly tangled together that shielding them from the younger man was becoming an active exercise rather than something routine. The bond they shared was close - too close. Through it, he knew that Obi-Wan desired the same thing he did but it could not be. There would be no chance of anything happening that would damage the other man's future with the Jedi. The pleasures of the flesh were too ephemeral to even consider it.

 

There it was again. That dark pulsing at the edges of his consciousness, letting him know that Obi-Wan's thoughts were centered on the same subject his were. Too close. Something was going to have to be done and soon.

 

Setting the printouts on the table beside him, Qui-Gon rose, his expression one of total composure. "I am going to meditate, Padawan. Should you need me I shall be in the south garden."

 

An answer would come in time, Force willing, for there was one thing the older Jedi was certain of: things could not remain as they were for long.

 

_There's a pain_

_A famine in your heart_

_An aching to be free_

 

Obi-Wan watched his Master stand, unable to stop himself from picturing the movement of the powerful muscles beneath the tunic, and felt surges of sexual energy running through him, shocking in their blatant intensity. He choked back surprise and annoyance at his own lack of control, even as he heard Qui-Gon's pronouncement of the need for meditation. Obi-Wan thought vaguely to himself that perhaps he should try meditation immediately... especially with Qui-Gon looking at him expectantly.

 

"Yes, Master. Perhaps I'll join you later." His voice was mild, but he felt ready to scream aloud at any moment, and desperate thoughts of Qui-Gon's mouth and tongue on him were making him sweat...he beat the images back, squeezing his eyes closed for an instant. Qui-Gon's gaze remained a tangible temptation, as close a sensation to fingertips on bare skin as Obi-Wan could tolerate. He shifted anxiously, hands flitting restlessly over the lightsaber components he had been working with, accomplishing nothing with their empty motion.

 

Still, Qui-Gon looked at him.

 

"Padawan? Are you well?"

 

Obi-Wan felt the heated flush which was creeping across his face and contemplated a number of answers, biting them all back. He reached out with the Force, not even certain he was able to conceal the turmoil in his own mind, and felt for Qui-Gon's emotions. His Master's mind was like the still surface of a pond; no ripples, only an untroubled serenity.

 

"Of course, Master." What the hell did Qui-Gon care for the Council and Code, anyway? He had to be aware of the depth of Obi-Wan's feelings. This was not a new situation, after all... Obi-Wan knew it had been building for a number of years, at least in his own impatient heart. He couldn't believe Qui-Gon hadn't wondered, once or twice, what it would be like to lay together with Obi-Wan, joined together so deeply that nothing mattered, not the mission, not the Council, nothing but the slow, deep movement, the cries of passion, the...

 

Qui-Gon seemed to hesitate for the merest fraction of a second, studying Obi-Wan's rigid body, before leaving the room as he'd planned. Obi-Wan shuddered with relief the moment the older Jedi was out of sight, and his fingers clenched reflexively around the cold pieces of his lightsaber. Something was going to happen, something to force the issue.

 

And he might have to be the one to make sure of it -- if he had the courage.

 

_Can't you see_

_All love's luxuries_

_Are here for you and me_

 

Once the door slid closed behind him and Qui-Gon was certain that Obi-Wan was not going to follow him out into the corridor, the Jedi leaned against the cool, featureless wall, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples trying to will his body back into quiescence.

 

I'm going to have to do something about this. But not tonight, not when the image Obi-Wan had unknowingly shared with him still burned in his mind, sending flaring pulses across frayed nerve endings so that it felt as if his whole body was under the lash of an expertly handled whip.

 

The one consolation in all of this was that he was sure his apprentice was unaware of his failing in this matter, of how close Qui-Gon had come to giving in on numerous occasions. The completion of the difficult mission on Banterah, Obi-Wan looking up at him, grinning, his lips parted slightly in a way that begged for a kiss. The way the younger man's eyes strayed to him as they watched the couples dancing at the banquet. The terrible dark urge he had felt to whisk his Padawan from the hall to their rooms and partake in a more primal version of those rhythmic movements....

 

Control. That was the key to this. If his meditations did not bring him an answer Qui-Gon knew he would have to discuss the matter with someone, preferably not a member of the Council.

 

Sometime during his ruminations, the Jedi had begun walking again, his long, easy strides carrying him toward the softly lit archway leading to the south gardens. This had been his favorite place in the Temple for as long as he could remember, a setting that usually brought him peace and serenity the moment he entered. But not today.

 

Making his way along the path that led through the lush ferns and tropical plants that had been carefully cultivated here, Qui-Gon at last reached his destination and knelt, automatically settling himself in to a comfortable posture as he began to turn his mind inward. Soft splashes from the small waterfall-fed pond filled his ears, and he slowly began to relax as the iron-hard control he held his emotions under loosened, sending a small shudder through his body.

 

There is an answer, find it. A last conscious thought before he lost himself in the pervasive song of the Force, opening himself up to whatever visions or guidance it might provide

 

_Bring your chains_

_Your lips of tragedy_

_And fall into my arms_

 

Obi-Wan tried for the tenth time to fit two small pieces together inside a tiny compartment of his lightsaber. A red-hot frustration which was anything but peaceful flared up in him, and he had to actively resist the urge to fling the weapon across the room. He gritted his teeth and sat back in the chair, willing his breathing to slow, his muscles to relax. Qui-Gon would not be pleased with his lack of patience. Nor would his Master be particularly accepting of Obi-Wan's private reluctance to quiet his mind, for fear he would dull the rush of feelings which was suddenly plaguing him, troubling him much more acutely than ever before.

 

As tempting as it would be to blame all this on Qui-Gon, his Master had never given him the slightest bit of encouragement. Always the perfect mentor, the perfect Jedi...but Obi-Wan was suddenly struck by recent memories, clues which were small enough to be almost insignificant, but staggering when seen as a whole.

 

For instance, there was his Master's stark fear when Obi-Wan was injured on a short mission to Endor, and the way his hands had lingered on Obi-Wan's body, tending him gently as the minor wounds healed. Obi-Wan had been hurt many times before, and much more seriously, but the terror he sensed in Qui-Gon that day was something new. Yet, he had allowed himself to believe Qui-Gon's explanation, as his Master brushed it aside as an overreaction, a fear that dissipated when the true extent of the injuries were known.

 

The nagging questions began to twist through his mind after that mission, the sneaking suspicions forming. They curled themselves insidiously around his desire for his Master and began to take root. And there were other moments...his Master seemed unable to stop looking at him, in public, in private, even when Obi-Wan was supposed to be asleep. The startling erotic clarity of his dreams recently, which he now understood must be influenced by Qui-Gon's own unconscious needs. And the subtle humming carrier wave between them, its intensity growing every day, until it was like a swirling electrical charge...

 

Go to him.

 

Unexpected and clear, the abrupt command came out of nowhere, catching Obi-Wan off guard. He stood up from the table, pacing like a caged animal. It was ridiculous. He couldn't do this. The consequences would be more than Qui-Gon could accept. It would upset his Master's carefully ordered world, throw everything known into chaos, create a situation which was dangerous, totally out of control. His respect for his Master's life work, the dedication he'd shown to Obi-Wan and his path as a Jedi, was primary to him.

 

Go to him.

 

More urgent this time, overthrowing reason. The living Force was flowing through him, driving him, and Qui-Gon had instructed him never to ignore the call of the Force.

 

He would go to the gardens. And perhaps they would talk, and go over this thing openly, and he could have a measure of peace and calm, and concentrate on the simple tasks which were quite beyond his capacity in his present state of mind.

 

Obi-Wan took a deep, resolved breath and turned to go.

 

And found Qui-Gon in the doorway.

 

Taking note of his student's surprise, the Jedi Master remained where he was, the look he gave Obi-Wan impressive in its inscrutability. "I believe we should talk, Padawan."

 

If the words hadn't been so painfully drawn from his lips, Qui-Gon would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. His apprentice looked as restless as he felt and the older Jedi was compelled to draw on every bit of his training to maintain his collected appearance.

 

His trance had started off normally, bringing with it a sense of ease but the moment he had opened himself fully to the Force that had all changed. The first image had been of hands, just that, nothing more. Unable to discern who the hands belonged to or what their meaning was, Qui-Gon had let the vision carry him along, knowing that trying to control it would only lead to a headache later.

 

Details appeared as the image sharpened and Qui-Gon recognized the hands; the tanned skin, the broad palms and long fingers, the calluses raised from years of training - they were his own.

 

The vision acquired a tactile component as it shifted, changing to a picture of his hands moving across an expanse of lightly sun-kissed skin, tracing and learning each line, each sweeping curve as muscles contracted and relaxed. Moving lower now, across the tight, flat stomach and the indentation of a navel. Stopping to trace the shallow cup, swirling one finger inside in an attempt to catalog every bit of the bounty spread before them.

 

Lower still now, to the flaring head of the penis, lifting it from the bed of crisp gingery curls to stroke down its length. Capturing and rolling the silken length between his palms, listening to the harsh gasp of his own breathing as it twined and mated with Obi-Wan's...

 

The vision shattered apart at that, splintering around Qui-Gon in a multitude of tiny, razor sharp pieces, each one slashing at the Jedi's already tattered self-control. This could not be. He could not allow it. But by the hells he wanted it, wanted to feel the smooth stretch of his Padawan's flesh beneath his hands, to hear the hitch in Obi-Wan's breath as he brought him nearer the edge...

 

Go to him.

 

The words were a command, not a suggestion, and one that would not be ignored.

 

The situation had to be dealt with, diffused, before it consumed both of them. Qui-Gon stood, for the moment feeling every bit of his age, and started back to the rooms he shared with his apprentice. As hard as it would be, the older Jedi knew that if they could not work through this he would be required to step aside as Obi-Wan's teacher - something that tore at his soul and, though Qui-Gon struggled not to acknowledge it, at his heart.

 

Go to him.

 

Demanding now, an urgent prodding like a shove between the shoulder blades, causing him to lengthen his stride. The door slid back at his approach and Qui-Gon halted, assaulted by the full force of his Padawan's emotions. Praying for the strength to deal with this as he had to, the older Jedi waited until Obi-Wan turned, the apprentice's expression changing from one of determination to wary expectation.

 

_And when our world it falls apart_

_And the walls come tumbling in_

_Though we may deserve it_

_It will be worth it_

 

Obi-Wan felt tense and tight, his body a mass of throbbing energy with no outlet, as he watched Qui-Gon enter the room. Keeping himself at a distance from the younger man, his Master sat heavily in the large chair near the window.

 

"I've never known you to abandon your meditations after such a short interval, Master." Obi-Wan's observation was pointed, sharp with an unspoken challenge.

 

"When one is seeking answers, Padawan, one must first ask the questions." Qui-Gon's tone was controlled, but there was an edge there, just underneath the philosophical patience. "Discovery comes as the inevitable is confronted." A pause, then Qui-Gon added, "We cannot continue this way."

 

Bewitching blue-green eyes met nocturnal, deeper blue, their gazes merging, pulling together like tides toward shore. Obi-Wan felt emotions crashing through him at an unthinkable rate, jarring him as they smashed together, rational thought and better judgment splintering against uncompromising desire.

 

"If you're going to tell me it's forbidden, don't bother. I don't care," Obi-Wan said darkly, abandoning any ideas of calm discussion or putting the issue to rest. "I can't control what I feel...what this is. I've tried. I already know I can't have what I want." His tone was low, almost dangerous. "And I won't let you send me away. I won't go."

 

Qui-Gon's throat constricted as Obi-Wan looked at him, waiting, wanting him to solve the problem but leaving little room for resolution. His own hunger seemed to be clawing its way up inside of him, scratching toward the surface, leaving bloody trails across his heart, his conscience, his responsibilities.

 

"This mustn't happen," the Jedi Master said, somewhat desperately, feeling his control crack even as the words landed flat between them. "If you won't go, then I will. After so many years, to lose what you've accomplished would be unacceptable. You must become a Knight."

 

"If you try to hand me off to another Master, I'll leave the Jedi." Obi-Wan saw the words hit his Master, who flinched as they struck true. He knew Qui-Gon did not doubt his sincerity. "You want me to complete my training, and so I shall. But not without you."

 

Qui-Gon felt trapped, and stunned. The decision was not his to make any longer. If he pushed Obi-Wan away to ensure he became a Jedi, his Padawan would discard that future to make a path with Qui-Gon. And if he succumbed to the feelings between them, he would be setting them on a path which might lead to utter disgrace, and the loss of everything he held dear. Two paths, with the same probable outcome.

 

"You cannot throw away your destiny, Obi-Wan." As soon as he said the name, he saw Obi-Wan shudder with the emotion generated by Qui-Gon's voice, felt the power of that emotion lash through him, and shuddered himself in response.

 

"My destiny is here, Master." Four strides, and Obi-Wan was on him, straddling him in the chair, his mouth open and moving harshly, coercing his Master's lips into obedience. His kiss, brutal with the intensity of his need, softened as Qui-Gon yielded to the raw passion which ached within them both. He held Qui-Gon's face between his hands, pulling him up into the ravenous kiss.

 

He was lifted, and with a gentle shove Obi-Wan tumbled backward onto the ground, Qui-Gon stretched against the length of him, lips still fastened to his. Qui-Gon's hand touched the back of Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan arched up into the kiss, a low sound of pleasure coming from a place long buried within him.

 

Doubts, denials, and conflicts were stripped away by the rough, seductive sound and Qui-Gon's fingers spasmed, closing over the tender skin at the nape of his apprentice's neck. The pressure drew another guttural moan from the younger man and Qui-Gon greedily swallowed the vocalization, drawing it into himself and savoring it as he did everything about Obi-Wan.

 

Pinned by the weight of his Master above him, Obi-Wan writhed, seeking a way to strip the clothing from the larger man without losing any of the contact between them. Each near-frantic shift pushed his aching body against the pressure of Qui-Gon's thigh and rewarded Obi-Wan with an answering thrust of the other man's hips.

 

There was no time for subtlety or gentle seduction; the need within both had been too long denied for any of the niceties of romance. Now there was only the driving need to possess and be taken, to cross that final boundary that separated them and indulge in the acts that had had been reserved for the most private places in their minds and thoughts.

 

The feel of hands working at stripping his robe and tunics away brought Qui-Gon partially back to himself and he tore his mouth from his apprentice's to stare down at him. "Padawan..." The sight before him made any other words impossible. Obi-Wan's sea-change eyes shone with a sensual abandon. A sheen of sweat caused his skin to glow and his lips were swollen from the force of the kiss they had shared. His beauty was fascinating, an elixir more powerful than any aphrodisiac. Pushing himself up on his hands, Qui-Gon separated their bodies slightly, trying desperately to get some handle on the maelstrom of emotions whirling inside him. "Obi-Wan," he began again, allowing himself the luxury of trailing his fingers down the younger man's cheek.

 

"When will the time for talking be finished, Master?" Obi-Wan's tone was raw and needy and he shifted again in an effort to bring the other man closer. "You felt the call as I did. Now you try to reason it away."

 

"I cannot deny what I know to be the truth - not any longer, but this is not the time or the place." The settling of the younger man's expression into a dark glare drew a pained smile from Qui-Gon. "Do not think this is any easier for me, Obi-Wan, but if we are to take this step, it must be with a firm vision of what changes it will bring about. I would not and will not do anything that will bring you regret." He lifted his head higher, as though listening to a sound beyond the range of normal hearing. "We cannot broadcast these emotions here, in the Temple, not this first time." He stopped, looked at Obi-Wan's darkening eyes. "If we do, we'll be stopped before we have begun."

 

"I don't care where we are or what the time is," Obi-Wan growled mutinously and then sighed, seeing the look of stubborn firmness he knew so well, and had learned to emulate. He studied Qui-Gon's strong features, drinking in the rugged planes and angles of the other man's face as if this would be his last chance to see them at this proximity. "When, then?"

 

"Tomorrow evening." The words had a weight to them, a finality that secured the emotion tightly. "I will make arrangements." Qui-Gon rose swiftly to his feet, extended a hand to his Padawan and pulled him up from the floor. They stood, hands clasped, irrevocably sealing a bargain of desire, a choice which would alter their lives forever.


	2. Sweetest Perfection

he sweetest perfection

To call my own

The slightest correction

Couldn't finely hone...

 

Qui-Gon Jinn burned.

 

No amount of concentration, meditation or exercise could banish the bone-deep sensation that clung to his body, igniting reactions that had long been forced into dormancy by the strict edicts of the Code. Forbidden, prohibited, banned, it mattered not what words were used to describe it, the path he and Obi-Wan had embarked on earlier this evening was not allowed. Discovery would lead to the ruination of both of them.

 

Then you must make sure that this does not occur.

 

It was his place as the elder, the Master, the teacher, to assure that his apprentice was protected -- at least in this single instance. Certainly at this stage of his life Obi-Wan needed shielding from little else. His weapons sense was higher than most field-tested knights. It was only his feel for the living Force -- or more correctly his sometimes erratic control over it and his emotions -- that remained an obstacle to his progression within the Order.

 

Imbued with a sense of restless energy that was totally foreign to him, Qui-Gon pushed his chair back from the console and paced the length of the room, an act that took all of fifteen seconds, considering the size of his temporary quarters. Staying in the rooms he shared with his Padawan was impossible. Physical separation had been the only solution, albeit a temporary and inadequate one.

 

Even now Qui-Gon felt the lick of Obi-Wan's mind against his, communicating restive need and frustration, the touch grating against his already shredded sensibilities. Lust flared and the Jedi Master sought to block the link only to find it too firmly entrenched to be totally shut off. Even after a concentrated effort the effects lingered, bringing with them a painful tightening of his body. He felt the desire to make done with all this foolishness by returning to their rooms and laying claim to that intoxicating mouth, to rip and tear until the lithe body was free from its protective covering, to plunder, to take...

 

Where are all your vaunted ideals now, Qui-Gon? he demanded of himself, feeling close to suffocation by the close quarters of his hastily procured sleeping space. The room was even more spartan than his own quarters; there was nothing to distract his mind from the siren's song of his need, and that of his apprentice. Too easily he could picture Obi-Wan lying on his bed, tossing from side to side in an effort to set aside the violent emotions they had engendered in each other.

 

The vision of his Padawan twisting on his bed, his arousal all too plainly outlined by the thin sheet, drew an answering throb of anticipation from deep within Qui-Gon. What would it feel like to be sheathed in the clinging heat of Obi-Wan's body? How would it feel to be taken to the edge by the pressure of Obi-Wan's length within him, or his mouth on him, or .. .

 

Another long-held restriction snapped under the pressure of unrelenting lust and Qui-Gon threw himself on the narrow bed, stripping off his sleep pants in the same motion, his hand moving unerringly to his straining erection. As he took up a hard, demanding pace, Qui-Gon reached for the newly deepened link that had formed between himself and Obi-Wan. The contact between their minds opened enough to let the younger man know what he was doing, to give him a taste of what their union would be like once the final restraints of duty and civilization were stripped away.

 

The sweetest infection

Of body and mind

Sweetest injection

Of any kind

 

There had never been a night so long, not in the entire history of all the worlds of the Republic.

 

Obi-Wan flung himself over onto his back, resisting the urge to reach between his legs and touch himself until the ache there dissipated. His restless rolling around the bed had developed a steady pattern over the last few hours. Turn to the left, stare out the window. Turn on his stomach, groan at the pressure on his aching cock, turn on his right side. Clutch the pillow and try to focus his mind on the tasks of the day which refused to arrive. Roll onto his back, kick the covers and resist the incredible, growing urge to take his cock in his hands and...

 

The young Jedi closed his eyes and laced his fingers tightly together beneath his head, controlling his breathing. He drew down his lust into the very small space in his brain usually reserved for purging anger and hatred.

 

And groaned as a sudden image of Qui-Gon leaped into his mind.

 

He saw his Master in the quarters he'd procured for the night, nude, a sheet twisted carelessly around his muscular legs, which were slightly spread across the bed, heels dug into the soft mattress. His Master's body shone in the dim light, a sheen of sweat glowing on him, as his hand worked mercilessly up and down...

 

Obi-Wan's eyes popped open, wide and desperate. His own need twitched on his belly, demanding attention. He vaulted off the bed and moved as quickly as he was able toward the shower, suddenly feeling quivers of desire like shooting pains in his hips and thighs, drawn deep from his loins...and the sensations were not his own. Carefully, he climbed into the shower and slapped his hand against the control sensor, bringing a deluge of cold water. He rested his hands and forehead against the wall as the water shocked his body, cowing it into immediate submission, and the terrible twinges of want eased in him.

 

_This should not be happening!_ he thought fuzzily, as images continued to press into his mind, his Master arching off the bed, small growls and shouts of pleasure echoing in an empty room. His name was on his Master's lips, a fierce sound that sent Obi-Wan further under the cascading water, back to the wall, open palms pressed against the cool tile, his heart pounding with the shared force of unconcealed passion. Qui-Gon _wanted_ him to see, wanted him to know, wanted everything... his Master was giving him a piece of the darkness of his soul, a preview of what awaited them when they joined.

 

Obi-Wan tried to clip off the invading thoughts, determined to pass this night without giving in to his desire. The edge would be much sharper, the need much harder and focused, if he could just stave off the building urgency, the extraordinary waves of emotion that were pulling at him like coarse tethers. He tasted the tang of his own blood and realized with some surprise he'd been biting down furiously on his lip. He tilted his head forward, dousing himself with water, lips parted, eyes closed. Silently, he made a firm promise to himself.

 

He would more than repay Qui-Gon for the cost of this little experiment in agony when finally they were together.

 

I stop and I stare too much

Afraid that I care too much

And I hardly dare to touch

For fear that the spell would be broken

 

Sleep had proven elusive, even after one of the most intense orgasms Qui-Gon could remember - definitely the most mind-shattering climax he had ever had while alone.

 

"What is happening to me?" The question echoed off bare walls that a short time before had borne witness to the sounds of his solitary pleasure. Swinging his legs off the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his long hair shrouding his face in a sea of shadows, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, the better to restore some kind of order to his thoughts.

 

A faint ghost of a chill washed over his skin, making him shudder, and it was then the Jedi Master realized how his apprentice had dealt with the situation. A cold shower -- perhaps that was the thing he needed also. If nothing else it might purge his body of the parts of his desire that remained unslaked, demanding nothing less than a total joining before they would subside.

 

Shower, then exercise and food. Sleep was not a necessity. Qui-Gon had survived on far less for greater periods of time, although the circumstances were indeed unique this time. After his morning meal would come a trip to the opposite side of a planet. There was a small, private resort he had visited during peace talks between two factions of a trade franchise that would be perfect for what was to come.

 

Plan each step out and you will stay in control of the situation. There was no room for error here, too much depended on it. One wrong look, one stray thought and the Council would become aware -- and they would not be forgiving.

 

Pushing his hair back out of his face, the Jedi Master rose, his long body unfolding from the low bed with the feral grace of a jungle predator that has caught scent of its mate and is preparing to enter into the hunt. Now that he had a plan of attack, Qui-Gon was able to settle his thoughts into more or less a semblance of their normal, rational state. To compartmentalize -- if only for now -- the damning need for his apprentice that had possessed him.

 

"Is the suite satisfactory?"

 

The question drew Qui-Gon out of his reverie. He gave the resort's proprietor a short nod that revealed nothing of the turbulent thoughts churning beneath the smooth façade of the Jedi's outer demeanor. Here outside the Temple, putting on such a front was child's play, but Qui-Gon knew that things would get much more complicated once he returned to the massive tower.

 

All morning the pulse of Obi-Wan's emotions had pressed against his thoughts, a steady barrage of intertwined lust, frustration and impatience that at times made the hairs on the back of the older man's neck rise due to their insistence. All morning Qui-Gon had forced himself to ignore the sensations, concentrating on the here and now instead of what was to come.

 

"Is there anything else you require?"

 

At the Jedi's negative head shake, the proprietor bowed and swept out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him and leaving Qui-Gon alone.

 

A soft, artificial breeze tugged at his hair, drawing his gaze to the wide windows that dominated the outside wall of the rooms. The scene projected on the forcescreen was of one of the rural planets and was rendered in exacting detail down to the sounds and scents carried on the wind.

 

This was good. The serenity of the setting would hopefully prove to balance the violent emotions flaring between himself and his Padawan and if not... well, the bed was at least large and sturdy enough to withstand most anything.

 

Qui-Gon nodded again, then went to work unpacking the small bag he had brought with him, setting the contents on the small bedside table. He had barely placed the second item on the stand when a sharp pain flared at the side of his neck, a burning sensation accompanied by a spike in the background noise from the link he shared with from Obi-Wan.

 

"By the Hells ..." Concern added strength to his own sending, shoving against the shields in his apprentice's mind until a hasty reassurance on Obi-Wan's part partially assuaged Qui-Gon's worry, at least as to the other man's physical state. His mental condition, however, was quite another story.

 

The knowledge that he had to get Obi-Wan out of the Temple -- and soon -- beat at Qui-Gon, bringing with it the gnawing sense of self-doubt concerning this course of action. If Obi-Wan had not been so adamant . . .

 

Putting aside the attempt to lay blame where none could be assigned, unless it was squarely on his own shoulders, the Jedi Master calmed himself with a moment's meditation and then went back to his task.

 

The carryall was empty and Qui-Gon was making a last inspection of the rooms to assure himself that all was in readiness when the next assault hit. Towering waves of need, vivid, erotic images that meshed with his own from the night before, a tight, almost painful pressure at his groin . . . Obi-Wan was broadcasting again with little notice or apparent concern that his emotions had overrun the tight band of their private connection and had spilled out onto a broader spectrum that anyone attuned to the Force could feel.

 

The lust spiraled into a tight knot that begged for a single touch to be released. The fine lines around Qui- Gon's eyes deepened as he fought the temptation by striding out of the room, stalking toward his transport and slamming it into gear, rocketing back toward the central part of the city and his apprentice. A lesson in control was indeed in order.

 

When I need a drug in me

And it brings out the thug in me

Feel something tugging me

Then I want the real thing not tokens

 

Yawning for the tenth time in as many minutes, Obi-Wan switched his lightsaber to lowest power and set it aside. Ordinarily, he might have tried to make up for lost rest by sleeping in that morning - since Qui-Gon was not there to prod him out of bed - but he had snatched only tiny, drowsy moments of sleep between unsettled dreams. And then there were his Master's fantasies...which had needled into him at various hours throughout the night, creeping in like a slow, low fog and enveloping him. Before dawn's faintest light had even begun to take the sky, Obi-Wan was showered (for the third time that night), dressed, had eaten some fruit for breakfast and was stretching in preparation for morning exercises.

 

After a basic warm-up drill involving an hour of laps, gymnastics and walking on his hands to hone his balance, he prepared to go through a few katas. It would take up another hour of what was going to be a very, very long day. And then perhaps he'd train on a few of the flashier moves with the lightsaber his Master often discouraged, moves he usually practiced in his spare time.

 

Exercise was addictive for Obi-Wan. He craved it when he was prevented from indulging in it, when sick or injured, and could not remain inactive for very long. As a child, he was constantly in motion, to the exasperation of his teachers. Many lectures and rebukes had been his to endure in his earliest years at the Academy, due to the simple fact that outer calm and inner peace were difficult states for him to achieve.

 

He began his first kata, focusing absently on the movements which were very familiar and needed little active concentration. His thoughts immediately returned to the situation with Qui-Gon. Sighing, he allowed them to flow naturally, even as his muscles moved in a synchronous rhythm dictated by the Force.

 

Obi-Wan mused that something unexpected was happening to the bond he'd always shared with his teacher. He was starting to understand things his Master had held back from him and might never have chosen to reveal, had their mutual desire not become so ungovernable. For one thing, there was unbelievable passion locked behind those knowing, stoic eyes. If Obi-Wan felt any less certain of his feelings, he might have been almost frightened by the danger of seeing that passion fully, violently released. The truth was, Obi-Wan knew his own desire, and knew he was capable of inflicting just as much damage, should he choose not to keep himself in check. The thought made him shudder, and he completely lost track of where he was within the kata.

 

Swearing in three different languages, Obi-Wan began the kata again. He wondered where Qui-Gon was, and what he was doing. He considered reaching out with the Force, but snorted at the notion. If Qui-Gon was doing anything even remotely like last night...well, Obi-Wan didn't want to know what he was up to that badly. Besides, little hints of emotion were tingling at the base of his brain anyway, like electrical arcs, suddenly sparking into blue bursts of clarity. Obi-Wan was disconcerted by how easily his Master was communicating his private feelings. He sensed bursts of frustration, flaring and retreating, chasing merciless self-examination and worry. And beneath them, a gripping need was tearing at his Master.

 

Much like the need which was arising once again in Obi-Wan, causing him to shift uncomfortably and lose his place within the kata once again.

 

"Hells of the Sith!" he shouted, and was immediately ashamed of his outburst. Seething, he stood with his hands on his hips, irritated beyond belief. His glance fell on his lightsaber, which he instantly called to his hand. Once he'd ignited it, he swung into patterns he'd been taught by other, more advanced students, spinning the glowing blade end over end until it seemed he supported a lighted orb rather than a luminous stick.

 

As he began dipping the blade in fancy maneuvers which wasted energy in actual battle, he pictured the look he expected to see on Qui-Gon's face as he went down on him for the first time...

 

Before he was even conscious of the fact that it had gone astray, his lightsaber was out of his hand and descending on him from the air above, narrowly missing his face but glancing across his neck before hitting his tunic and then the floor, extinguished. He shouted again, this time with pain, and tried too late to avoid broadcasting his distress. He felt Qui-Gon's push at his mind, even across this distance, demanding and concerned. He let his Master know he was all right. It stung, to be sure, and was a nasty burn, but it could be healed quickly. He'd sustained far worse.

 

Obviously, it was not a good time to practice anything too complicated.

 

He picked up his lightsaber, glared at it, and attached it to his belt. He looked up, suddenly realizing that several pairs of eyes were on him. Other students had stopped, disturbed not just by his erratic control during the practice drills, but by what he was projecting with his emotions. He could feel their curiosity, and disapproval. A chilling wave of anxiety dropped his stomach into his boots, bringing worry that he'd somehow given away the secret. If he'd broadcast too much, and someone went to the Council...even a suspicion of impropriety between Padawan and Master would be enough to ruin Qui-Gon. He met their stares defiantly, until one by one, they turned away.

 

It was too much. He was overloading like a hot hyperdrive without coolant. Qui-Gon wouldn't be back until the evening. He wasn't going to last that long.

 

Within five minutes, Obi-Wan was back in the privacy of the quarters he usually shared with his Master. One look at Qui-Gon's bed was enough to send quivering impulses to every nerve ending. He flung himself on the bed and bounced a few times, yanking off his leggings. He lay back, closed his hand around his hard, angry erection, and allowed his mind to take him back to the night before, to the picture of Qui-Gon rocking up against his hand, inviting Obi-Wan to be voyeur to his pleasure. He forced a breath, which emerged as a frayed, grating sigh, and began to touch himself, stroking as cruelly as he dared, unyielding pressure tightening with every movement. What he saw on the private viewing screen on the mind threw him into a helpless frenzy...Qui-Gon on top of him, as Obi-Wan bit and scratched, and Qui-Gon showed him the beauty and power of being possessed... and Qui-Gon beneath him, accepting that power in return. He felt his muscles lock in position as he came, unable to breathe, to see, to think, to do anything but allow the vibrations which wracked him to move through him, unstoppable.

 

Spent, he dropped his hand and lay gasping on the bed, mind numb. Within a few seconds, he became aware that once again, his reactions were not simply his own...he could feel the disturbance he had caused, and that same worry overcame him. And then, he felt it...Qui-Gon's mind, seeking his.

 

His Master was on his way to Obi-Wan, and he was burning with anger, and fear. And an unveiled, irrevocable lust.

 

Things you'd expect to be

Having effect on me

Pass undetectedly

But everyone knows what has got me

 

Qui-Gon moved through the open terrace of the entryway to the Jedi Temple, fluidly passing through the crowds of people there. On any given day, Qui-Gon's presence would have caused a stir; his powerful, graceful movements were eye-catching. On this day, however, he was met with a number of curious stares, and his jaw tightened fractionally with each step.

 

"Qui-Gon," a voice called from behind him.

 

Pushing aside the urgency which had brought him back to the Temple, Qui-Gon turned and acknowledged the speaker. "Good day, Master Arka."

 

"Master Qui-Gon, a word with you?" The request was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent of firmness in the tone. Qui-Gon frowned slightly as he met the man's eyes. A young girl caught up to Arka, stopping at his left elbow. Qui-Gon recognized her as one of the many new Padawans, just selected by Masters within the last few days. As his gaze rested on her momentarily, she flushed deeply, and her eyes flickered to her Master, then down to the ground. Qui-Gon's frown deepened.

 

Arka placed his hand on Qui-Gon's elbow and steered him a few paces from the girl, just out of earshot. "Qui-Gon, something seems to be...troubling...your Padawan. He seems to be in need of -"

 

"I'm well aware of what he needs," Qui-Gon said curtly, cutting off the suggestion.

 

Eyebrow raised, Arka looked at his old friend. "Yes, I believe you are," he said archly. "Know this, then. His repressed sexuality has taken a toll on my Padawan, although she doesn't understand the nature of her unease. I would suggest that you take steps to prevent your Padawan from influencing others around him."

 

"Your point is taken," Qui-Gon answered, growing more impatient with every word.

 

"Very well. I shall not speak of it again." Arka bowed slightly and retreated, guilty-looking Padawan in tow.

 

Qui-Gon resumed his brisk steps toward the interior of the Temple, but had gone only a few paces inside the building before hearing his name once again. Seething inwardly, he faced the second challenger.

 

"Ah, Master Qui-Gon. Some business has kept you from the Temple this day?" Master Ess Siala approached him smoothly, her Padawan remaining in the background, expression neutral.

 

"Errands elsewhere," he answered.

 

Siala nodded. "Your apprentice was injured today at practice. Perhaps you'd heard?"

 

"I was aware of his injury," Qui-Gon said truthfully, disconcerted by the fact that she felt the need to point it out. Perhaps the injury was worse than Obi-Wan had allowed him to know.

 

Qui-Gon's all-too-apparent concern jarred Siala, who chose her next words carefully. "Master Jinn. His injury was a small burn, nothing serious. It was self-inflicted due to his carelessness. He was distracted by other matters. His focus was not on his drills, as it should have been. Jao was present, as were other Padawans...all is not as it should be with Obi-Wan." Her dark eyes were inscrutable. "Caution would seem to be most prudent now, Qui-Gon," she advised softly.

 

Two old friends warning him within minutes of one another. Qui-Gon felt a surge first of anger, then dismay, then resignation.

 

"Thank you, Siala." A short nod, and he was again off in the direction dictated by his heart.

 

As he walked, his emotions simmered in turmoil. The criticism of other Masters mattered little, but the distraught expressions of the young Padawans drove home the true reason why these types of relationships were forbidden. Hidden within those cautions was a subtle rebuke - he had not taught Obi-Wan sufficient control. But how could he have known? He could barely control the storm raging within himself, with all the experience and techniques available to him. Obi-Wan could not have been expected to, either.

 

But he would learn to do so. Qui-Gon would see to it.

 

He stabbed at the keypad outside the door, gaining entry to their quarters, finding Obi-Wan on the bed, curled up around a large pillow, waiting for him. The younger Jedi slowly sat up, radiating desire and worry. Qui-Gon felt the emotions enter him, charring his heart, melting him slowly from within. "Come with me, Obi-Wan," he said tightly.

 

Without a word, Obi-Wan stood, dropping the pillow, and followed his Master from the room.

 

Takes me completely

Touches so sweetly

Teaches so deeply

I know that nothing can stop me

 

The elder Jedi's blue eyes burned like balefire as he watched Obi-Wan enter their accommodations ahead of him. Their return trip from the Temple had passed in silence.

 

"Close your eyes, Obi-Wan," he ordered as the door slid shut behind them.

 

Obi-Wan half-turned to look back at Qui-Gon, a questioning expression on his face.

 

"Close your eyes." The command was repeated in the same patient, implacable tone the Jedi Master delivered all his lessons in.

 

Reflex took over and Obi-Wan obeyed though he felt a bit of mutiny stir within him. What the hell was this? He had expected to be dressed down for his lapse, had almost anticipated it as the catalyst that would lead to the dissolution of all barriers between himself and Qui-Gon. But this? A child's exercise? It made no sense.

 

Attention to the Moment Gives Knowledge - but not the knowledge he was seeking, not at this juncture. Awaiting the next command, Obi-Wan concentrated on his breathing, allowing it to center him in a kind of fragile peace.

 

"Tell me what you see." The voice came from over his left shoulder, whisper-soft against his ear, but demanding.

 

"Images of Ganvala trees outside the windows, Antillian lace curtains, mosaic tiles on the floor done in patterns of navy, maroon, green and gold . . ."

 

Nodding to himself, Qui-Gon placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, the heavy clasp anchoring Obi-Wan more firmly into the here and now.

 

A faint sheen of sweat blossomed on Obi-Wan's skin and he swallowed audibly, striving to keep his mind on the exercise and not on the pressure of Qui-Gon's hand - or the way it was now sliding under the neck opening of his tunic, moving gently over the healing burn.

 

"Small metal sculpture on the table nearest the windows, navy couch at the eastern edge of the area rug, two armchairs opposite it. Doors on the western and southern wall, both closed."

 

The weight on his shoulder vanished and Obi-Wan tracked the quiet rustle of his Master's robes as Qui-Gon moved to stand in front of him.

 

"Open your eyes, Obi-Wan," the voice was still stern, still unrelenting. "Now tell me what you see."

 

The younger Jedi complied, raising his eyes to meet his Master's, his gaze holding both wariness and a challenge. "I see my future. I see that which I most desire. I see you, Qui-Gon."

 

The words hung between them with a delicacy the moment did not deserve, vibrating tensely, while Qui-Gon Jinn felt the uncaring madness of desire slowly sear away everything else.

 

Obi-Wan's eyes closed for a moment; he swayed, losing his bearings within sensation as his Master quite deliberately unlocked the hidden places he'd never shown, exposing every feeling. Into this raw awakening came a kiss, punishing, hungry lips which pushed at Obi-Wan's, coaxing him open, invading him.

 

Ragged breathing tore at them both as Qui-Gon pulled back, for the last time, clinging to one slender shred of coherence. Enough to ask, just once more.

 

"Are you certain, Obi-Wan?"

 

In answer, Obi-Wan's hands ripped open Qui-Gon's tunic, tearing it heedlessly as it was pulled free. Those same hands strayed with purpose up the muscles of his back, palms climbing, fingers digging, pulling, as Obi-Wan's lips touched the hard muscles of Qui-Gon's chest. Teeth bit not at all gently, as Obi-Wan abandoned all pretext of gentleness.

 

Qui-Gon felt no need to leash his strength any longer. With a muted rumble deep in his throat, he closed his hands on the sides of Obi-Wan's face, contacting those lips below him, breaking open something primal in them both. He drew one hand down, locking it around Obi-Wan's throat, feeling the pulse which hammered beneath his fingertips, feeling unreasonable pleasure at the power he felt as he tipped the younger man's head back. Obi-Wan's mouth was free beneath his, willing and wanton, as Qui-Gon crushed those lips furiously with his own.

 

Obi-Wan arched into Qui-Gon, pulling frantically at his own tunic, shredding it in his attempts to throw it aside, to make sure no obstacle remained between them. He succeeded as Qui-Gon's hand shifted, carefully avoiding the wound on Obi-Wan's neck with surprising restraint, brushing down his torso, finding the waistband of his leggings. Those large hands settled on his hips for a moment, then shoved the pants downward. The force of the shove sent them both staggering sideways, and Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan in a strong embrace, steadying him, lifting him, taking him with dizzying speed to the huge bed.

 

So quickly, the pants and boots disappeared, as Obi-Wan raised up and marked his Master with a savage nip just above his left nipple. He was left shuddering from the absence of touch as his Master pulled away and drew off his own remaining clothing. Climbing onto the bed beside him, Qui-Gon rolled quickly and pulled the younger man on top of him, manipulating the slender body until their legs slid into place, Obi-Wan almost astride the larger man's thigh, his erection pressing into his Master, near enough to his Master's cock to cause a sympathetic twitch.

 

Qui-Gon pulled his Padawan down, long arms wrapped about him, cradling his head as he brought Obi-Wan's lips to his yet again, feeling Obi-Wan's hands exploring the subtle angles of his face, pulling the hair tie free and burying themselves in that glorious hair. He tore his lips away as his fingers splayed across Obi-Wan's ass, pushing the younger man into him, listening with unthinkable pleasure to the sounds of wild ecstasy his Padawan made, watching through lust-glittered eyes as Obi-Wan's neck curved back, his face transformed by elemental eroticism. Obi-Wan tossed his head to the side, then clutched at Qui-Gon with spasming fingertips, throat constricted, and Qui-Gon understood what was needed.

 

Rolling once again, he positioned Obi-Wan beneath him, reaching to the bedside table and scooping up the bottle he'd left there. For the first time since all this had begun, he spared a moment of gratitude that Obi-Wan was not a virgin, that no preliminaries were needed. He did not have the patience that would have been needed, nor the control. It was too late for that. With quick motions, he opened the bottle and spread the oil sensuously across his cock, fingers dipping lower as he touched Obi-Wan in the same way.

 

Obi-Wan reared up into his hand, unsubdued, frighteningly passionate, as Qui-Gon's fingers stroked lower. Qui-Gon supported himself over the younger man and licked slowly across the hard brown nipples, tongue and teeth making war against flesh. Then, with one hard thrust, they were joined to each other, and a scream built in Obi-Wan's throat, as Qui-Gon's hand closed over him, moving in time to the ever-increasing throbbing inside him, which seemed to echo in his heartbeat.

 

Qui-Gon stopped moving suddenly, gritting out a harsh command. "Look... at... me, Obi-Wan..." Those exquisite, radiantly blue-green eyes, brighter with the light of love, wandered aimlessly as they opened, fixing slowly on the face above him, incapable of seeing. Qui-Gon pushed forward slightly, watching as those eyes clouded with bliss.

 

It was all he needed. Still moving in time to the rhythm he felt in his soul, Qui-Gon thrust and touched, feeling every movement of Obi-Wan's hands and lips on his body like a branding iron, cutting through him, marking him. He pushed on ferociously, feeling Obi-Wan twist and smash upwards beneath him. He was deaf from the roaring in his ears, could feel nothing but the fire in his blood, as he came with a devastation which was complete, a wholeness which could not be measured, feeling Obi-Wan's answering astonishment, as their minds fused and burst together, becoming nothing but pleasure, nothing but joy.

 

Sweetest perfection

An offer was made

An assorted collection

But I wouldn't trade

Takes me completely

Touches so sweetly

Teaches so deeply

Nothing can stop me

 

"I am sorry, Master."

 

The words cut through the air, breaking the silence that had descended, allowing the harsh light of reality to lay bare their actions and the possible consequences inherent in them. Flesh was still pressed against flesh, cooling now as synthetic breezes gusted across smeared beads of sweat and other, more viscous, fluids.

 

There was no need for Qui-Gon to ask why his Padawan was apologizing. The explanation was easily plucked from the top layer of the younger man's thoughts. Guilt -- not associated with what had just happened, but centered on the incident which had brought the Jedi Master back to the Temple.

 

"The lapse was unfortunate, but also unavoidable. We shall both be required to work to strengthen our shields and control." As he spoke, Qui-Gon trailed a single finger tenderly down the half-healed burn that marred the perfection of Obi-Wan's throat, tendrils of the Force following the progress and leaving unblemished skin in their wake.

 

The absence of the pain of the burn made Obi-Wan more aware of the various other minor injuries he had acquired during the course of their savage lovemaking, and he allowed himself the luxury of remembering how each ache had come about. He accepted the pain as he had been taught but did nothing to ease it, not wanting to give up anything that would remind him of this moment. Their desire had been building for so long, held in check by the fragile bulwarks of conscience and duty - it was small wonder the loosing of the flood gates had overwhelmed both of them. Still, it gave him a small amount of perverse pleasure to know that in this one case, the master was almost as undisciplined as the apprentice.

 

Qui-Gon's voice held a combination of laughter and resignation -- the tone that of a man who has given up fighting the direction his life was being swept in - as he spoke in response to the younger man's thoughts. "This is unknown territory for both of us. The challenges and tests will be many, Padawan."

 

"Bu the rewards are worth it, are they not, Master?" Pushing himself up on one elbow, Obi-Wan gazed down at Qui-Gon, noting with satisfaction the many small marks he had left on the older man's body. Midnight blue eyes went half-lidded as Obi-Wan ran his hand down the center of Qui-Gon's chest, skimming over skin that was suddenly a mass of hyper-sensitive nerve endings.

 

"The rewards are more than worth it, my Obi-Wan," the older Jedi said roughly. "But...as I was reminded today...caution would be most prudent now. There will be time - we will _make_ time, but we cannot allow what has occurred to affect our work or any future missions. You will be a Knight. I will accept nothing else."

 

"There are things in this life that I want more than being a Knight, Qui-Gon." Saying this, Obi-Wan reached for the Force and harnessed a bit to roll them both over so that he was looking down at his Master, looming over him, pushing his determination against the other man's mind much as his awakening body pressed against Qui-Gon's hard thigh. "Do not seek to tell me my feelings in this matter. If the Council made me choose between the Order and you, there would be no choice."

 

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to argue, to deny his Padawan's words, but instead found his lips covered and claimed by Obi-Wan's hungry kiss. The discussion would wait. For the moment, the only thing that mattered was the strong, lithe body atop his, the long, dexterous fingers that were bringing him to full arousal once again, the familiar, addictive touch of Obi-Wan's mind as the younger man showed Qui-Gon what was to come next and the ache deep inside him that only one thing could ease.

 

It was madness. It could lead to disgrace for both of them, but it was too late to retreat. Whatever the outcome, this path would be taken to its ending. What a glorious, perilous trip it would be.


	3. Policy of Truth

You have something to hide

Should have hidden it, shouldn't you

Now you're not satisfied

With what you've been put through

 

Hands on his body dragging him from the abyss of sleep. Touching, teasing, drawing a harsh gasp as they stroked and fondled him into complete wakefulness. Work-worn calluses, somehow feeling as soft as the finest Volarian silk, combining strength and grace in one all-encompassing touch.

 

A mouth; nova hot and far too knowledgeable for his peace of mind. Tasting, licking, drinking down his essence as if he were a sustenance vital to life itself. Lips still swollen from last night's kisses pressed against aching flesh, the soft glide replaced by pleasure/pain as white teeth closed, marking the skin, claiming, taking.

 

Eyes - blue-green and as changeable as the sea, currently storm dark with the raging tempest burning deep within them, hooded with the downsweep of heavy lids. Eyes that held no secrets, only promises of uncompromising desire and unrivaled pleasure, eyes that held his heart, his soul, his very life.

 

The soft brush of hair. The long, thin braid sliding along the bare skin of his thigh, the close-cropped velvet denying him a hand-hold except for the short tail in the back.

 

The touch of the mind; the incandescent burning of a bond deeper than any he had known or had dreamed of knowing. The all-encompassing need to be one, to devour and be consumed at the same time, to find the perfection of complete understanding that had been reached the night before and to never lose it again.

 

My Obi-Wan. The thought was growled out possessively as Qui-Gon's hands tightened in his Padawan's hair, tugging enough to get the younger man to look up at him.

 

Seeing the same unbridled need he felt reflected in the Jedi Master's cerulean eyes, Obi-Wan smiled, a feral expression of his desire. The truth before him was so much more astounding than any dream he had conjured up as to be laughable. Seeing his Master was nothing compared to touching him and less than nothing compared to the raw emotion that still arced between them. Flesh was seared to the bone by a touch, permanently branding the others' imprint on the consciousness, fusing two parts into a singular, unique whole.

 

My Qui-Gon. The answering thought was laced with the knowledge that things would never again be the same between them. A subtle shift in their relationship had occurred, twining their consciousness together, forging new, unbreakable bonds between them.

 

Keeping his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan dipped his head, running his tongue along the older man's erection before licking his lips like a child who has tasted an especially sweet treat and is determined to savor it to the fullest. The desire-filled groan he was rewarded with called for a repeat performance and the apprentice's head descended again, moving slower this time, eyes locked on his Master's expression.

 

Silver-tinged hair splayed out around the head thrown back against the mattress, powerful hands clenched in the sheets, back bowed upwards in a silent plea - this was the vision that greeted Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's eyes may have been closed, but the sheen of sweat that coated his skin and the tension vibrating through the larger man's body were close enough to Obi-Wan's fevered imaginings as to bring a secretive smile to his lips.

 

"You find this amusing?" Qui-Gon's voice was dark and tight with the need that spiraled through him, centering on the trails of humid warmth being tracked over his cock.

 

Most assuredly not, Master. I am merely enjoying the sight before me. At Qui-Gon's wordless growl, Obi-Wan took pity on the other man, granting him the temporary relief of lips closing around him and sliding downward.

 

In an attempt to regain some kind of control, Qui-Gon reached for the Force only to find it slipping through his fingers like so many glittering beads. Concentration was impossible, his whole world had narrowed down to the aggressive motion of his apprentice's head over his groin, the harsh suction that demanded nothing less than total surrender from him and the incessant probing of Obi-Wan's fingers as they searched out, then sparked the gland within him. The massive overload of his senses triggered a convulsive wave that swept through the older Jedi like a tidal storm, leaving him panting and shaken with the force of his climax.

 

Taking advantage of Qui-Gon's stated lethargy, Obi-Wan worked his way back up the larger man's body, pausing in his mission only to renew the slowly fading bite marks that dappled Qui-Gon's skin. When his goal was within reach, Obi-Wan caught his Master's lower lip between his teeth, tugging enough so that Qui-Gon opened his eyes, then pressed his tongue inside that inviting cavern, letting the older Jedi taste himself.

 

It's just time to pay the price

For not listening to advice

And deciding in your youth

On the policy of truth

 

There was a moment of total surrender before Qui-Gon snapped his arms tight around Obi-Wan's waist, rolling them over in the same motion so that his Padawan was trapped beneath him. "My turn," he whispered, the tightly leashed frenzy in his tone reflected in the harsh light of his eyes.

 

Leaving one hand in the center of Obi-Wan's chest to hold him in place, Qui-Gon pushed himself backward until he was resting on his knees alongside his apprentice. "Do not move, Padawan." The command was voiced quietly as the older Jedi sat back, his eyes roving over the other man's body with the same abandon his had been touched with earlier.

 

"Mast-" Obi-Wan began, starting to sit up before the pressure of the Force on his chest pushed him back against the mattress. He could fight it, could easily break free of the hold the invisible hand had on him but chose not to - it was Qui-Gon's turn, after all.

 

Once Obi-Wan had relaxed again, Qui-Gon settled into a meditative pose, his hands resting loosely on his thighs, his eyes narrowed to thin slits, all traces of the man who had bucked under the pressure of Obi-Wan's mouth gone.

 

Curiosity and desire burning through him like twin pyres, Obi-Wan fought his own impatience as the moment dragged out with his Master doing nothing more than look at him. Patience strained to the breaking point, he was just about to fling himself at the older man when he felt it, a light ghosting against the skin of his chest drawing his nipples to firm peaks before moving lower.

 

Firmer now, moving across his ribs and down to the tight planes of his stomach, concentrating around the hollow of his navel, filling and surrounding the depression at the same time. Unable to stay silent, Obi-Wan gasped, squirming and trying to bring more of his body into contact with that elusive touch.

 

It failed miserably, each twist and turn simply caused the fleeting caress to vanish, only to reappear when he was once again still, worn near to exhaustion by the combination of his raging desire and near frantic movements. "You're enjoying this, I think." The words were gasped out in between deep, heaving breaths that strained the younger Jedi's sweat-soaked chest.

 

One corner of the Jedi Master's mouth quirked up in a smile that was anything but comforting. "Shall I stop?" he asked, letting the contact grow even fainter. "Or shall I continue?" Now the pressure moved downward and split, sliding along Obi-Wan's thighs, easing them open with practiced skill.

 

"Don't stop." The drawn out groan accompanied a violent shudder and the spastic clenching of Obi-Wan's hands over empty air.

 

"As you wish, Padawan."

 

The warm touch was moving back upwards now, skimming over already tormented flesh, rolling the heavy testicles until they drew up tightly in their sac, spreading the first drops of leakage around the head of the straining flesh until it glistened with moisture.

 

It was too much, it wasn't enough, it was going to kill him and he would die willingly. Arching up against the unseen hands that worked him mercilessly, Obi-Wan moaned, lost in the rapturous yet somehow unfulfilling sensations. He was on the razor-edge of completion yet it eluded him, the need for physical contact outweighing the skillful manipulation he was being subjected too.

 

Qui-Gon watched his apprentice's inner conflict for a long moment, feeling the mounting pressure building in his own mind in reaction to Obi-Wan's growing frustration and need. Torture had never been his goal in this exercise and to keep the younger man from his climax any longer would be just that.

 

Obi-Wan cried out in despair as the phantom hands left his body then gave voice to a throaty shout as Qui-Gon moved swiftly to swallow him. The dark heat proved more welcome than any other he had ever felt and it was only a matter of seconds before the apprentice was came with a force that drew another passionate vocalization from him before hurling him toward the oblivion of ecstasy pulling Qui-Gon along with him through their shared consciousness.

 

A soft beeping gradually increased in volume, impinging on the Jedis' hazy minds and drawing them back to the reality of the moment.

 

"Comlink," Qui-Gon muttered, slowly pushing himself off of Obi-Wan's prone body. Shaking his loose hair out of his face, the Jedi Master glanced around the room, searching for the communicator.

 

A spike of fear that they had been discovered shot through Obi-Wan and he struggled to sit up, his expression wary. "I think we left them in the other room." Many details about the previous evening were unclear, lost in the overwhelming physical memory of the moment.

 

"Mmm." A look of distraction settling over his features, Qui-Gon rose from the bed and walked into the other room, his strides as fluid and unhurried as always. A short, quiet conversation ensued and the Jedi Master returned, his expression unreadable.

 

"We have a mission."

 

Things could be so different now It used to be so civilized You will always wonder how It could have been if you'd only lied

 

Obi-Wan dug his hands into the folds of his robe and kept pace with his master as they strode through the Temple. He felt scorched, branded with Qui-Gon's scent, the taste of him. He could still feel his master's touch, and he dragged his mind away from the memory with great effort, wondering if the previous night's carnal feast had changed the way he appeared to others.

 

Qui-Gon turned his head and fixed Obi-Wan with a look of pure possession as they waited on the lowest level for the lift. Obi-Wan caught his breath, meeting that burning gaze steadily, feeling lost in the sensation, unprepared for the sensory assault. Other Jedi milled about behind them, but it was as if they were completely alone. And then the lift arrived, and the moment was broken. Qui-Gon stepped in, and Obi-Wan followed.

 

As the doors slid closed, the Jedi Master regarded his Padawan. "Do I need to remind you how important it is that you remain focused?" he asked, trying and failing to sound stern. "The Council has undoubtedly heard rumors already, thanks to our behavior yesterday. They'll be looking for confirmation. If they find it-"

 

"I know," Obi-Wan said sharply. "Point taken." He was already hyper-aware of his own failings where this new dimension of their relationship was concerned. Still, the lust within him was like a drug, subverting his best intentions, making him crave more of the thing he was forbidden. He felt connected to Qui-Gon, tethered by a filament of desire so strong and pure he was unable to pull away. "I'll be the perfect padawan."

 

Amusement flashed across Qui-Gon's face. "Just be yourself," he advised. "If you suddenly become obedient and docile, they'll know for certain."

 

Obi-Wan grinned, but smothered the reaction quickly as the doors slid open, admitting them to the outer area of the Council Chamber. A young Jedi bowed to Qui-Gon and opened the doors, revealing the Council in the midst of some sort of heated debate. As the two Jedi entered the room, all conversation ceased.

 

Obi-Wan felt much like a zoo creature on display, as twelve pairs of eyes scrutinized him. He bowed to Yoda and Mace Windu. His Master mirrored his movements and the two Jedi stood waiting.

 

Mace Windu's eyes narrowed as he studied Obi-Wan. The young Jedi kept his features impassive, but his emotions bounced about his heart, and it was all he could do not to shift his weight from one foot to the other.

 

"You seem distracted, Padawan. Is all well with you and your master?" Windu asked, and there was more than a hint of disapproval in his tone.

 

"All is well, Master Windu. I am merely curious as to the nature of our mission," Obi-Wan answered mildly.

 

"Curious, you are. And more," Yoda said sharply. His knowing gaze landed squarely on Qui-Gon. "Much more. Have time to address this, we do not. Sending you to the Sh'saa system in two days, we are."

 

"The Sh'saa are in the midst of negotiating with the Senate for membership in the Republic," Mace Windu elaborated. "However, their motives are in question. We suspect they are primarily interested in protection from those in neighboring systems covetous of their abundant natural resources. "

 

"What is their stated objective?" Obi-Wan asked.

 

"Successful trade relations, and the sharing of technology. However, they have been reluctant to meet in person, and mistrustful of our Supreme Chancellor's assurances during holo-conferences. They grudgingly agreed to receive a representative of the Republic. That will be you, Master Jinn," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "Your Padawan is scheduled for testing and this mission may prove to be a lengthy one. He will remain here for the duration of the mission."

 

Qui-Gon felt the pulse of Obi-Wan's shock and indignation flare against his shields, but kept his face carefully neutral. "I would believe that the mission would prove to be more educational then lessons here."

 

"Stay he will. Approved one representative the Sh'saa government has."

 

Mace nodded, his dark gaze never wavering as he studied the two men. "They will not accept any deviation from their mandates. The Republic is allowed to send one ambassador and the Council has recommended you, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan will remain here."

 

"This is a delicate situation, we cannot allow any action or inaction to disrupt the negotiations," Opo Rancisis added.

 

"I shall be most cautious," Qui-Gon reassured the assembled Council members, swallowing any further objections he might have had. There was no point in arguing, because he could not be sure of his own motivations. He was not certain if wanted Obi-Wan at his side for purely personal reasons, or because he felt that the journey would be beneficial in his apprentice's training. Any argument would therefore lack conviction.

 

Obi-Wan pressed hard on his feelings, squelching them as best he could, and felt some of the tension ease from his Master as a neutral aura settled over him.

 

"See that you are cautious," Windu said pointedly. "Take no action, and make no agreements, without our authorization."

 

"Understood," Qui-Gon said, beginning his bow.

 

"Dismissed are you, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan will remain," Yoda said.

 

Qui-Gon froze momentarily, then rose from his bow and glanced at Obi-Wan, whose features were impassive. "I will await you in our quarters," he said softly, waiting for the short nod of agreement before leaving the room.

 

It's too late to change events

It's time to face the consequence

For delivering the proof

In the policy of truth

 

Obi-Wan stood still for a long moment, battling the tendrils of panic wrapping themselves around his heart. He reminded himself there was no cause for alarm, that they were waiting for him to reveal something. It was like wrestling a taun taun, a slippery, icy beast that refused to surrender.

 

Finally, Yoda spoke. "An training accident, was there, Obi-Wan? Hurt, were you?"

 

"Not seriously, Master Yoda. Just a small burn."

 

"Your carelessness has been the source of much speculation among other Masters," said Ki-Adi-Mundi in a patient, soothing tone. "If your Master has attended properly to your training, such lapses in concentration should not occur, not in such mundane circumstances. Are you well, Padawan?"

 

"I am well, Master. I simply had trouble sleeping, and was not myself." Obi-Wan nearly winced as soon as he said the words, and Yoda pounced immediately.

 

"Something troubles you, then? Keeps you from sleeping? Share this with us, you must."

 

"I am not troubled, Master Yoda. I meant only that I had been given a difficult exercise in control by my Master, and found my failings difficult to accept. I was restless, and tried to correct my mistakes, and I should have focused on my meditations first." That, at least, was the truth.

 

"Learned a valuable lesson, you did. Attention you must pay to your feelings, or overtake you they will." Obi-Wan realized with a jolt that Yoda already knew, and perhaps several others in the room did as well. He couldn't tell for certain about the others, but Yoda was giving him a message, and it was a clear warning.

 

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan agreed fervently.

 

"Go and meet your Master," Windu said. "And take care not to disrupt his efforts while he prepares for this mission."

 

As the doors closed behind the Padawan, Windu turned on Yoda. "You should have confronted him, both of them. What purpose will it serve to wait?"

 

"Patience," Yoda said. "Certain, we are not. Much can be learned from this mission. Know you the boy's potential. No better Master could he find. Jeopardize his training on the strength of rumors, I will not."

 

"You felt-" Mace began.

 

"What felt you from Qui-Gon?" Yoda interrupted.

 

"Nothing," Windu said shortly.

 

"Wait, we must, and see if Obi-Wan's feelings can be controlled." Yoda said firmly, ending the argument.

 

Never again

Is what you swore

The time before

 

The quiet whoosh of the opening door might have alerted Qui-Gon to his apprentice's entrance -- if the barely dampened turmoil of Obi-Wan's thoughts hadn't done so already. He set the datapad containing the information about his upcoming mission on the desk, then raised his eyes to meet his padawan's troubled gaze.

 

"They know, don't they?" Obi-Wan asked, fighting to keep his voice level. To have been granted his most cherished wish, only to have it ripped from him in the span of a day's time, was cruel at best. "That's why they're making me stay here."

 

Although he had entertained very similar thoughts, Qui-Gon shook his head. He rose and gathered the younger man into his arms. The simple contact threatened to cause the embers of desire within him to flare, and he ruthlessly squelched the emotion back to something manageable.

 

"They may suspect, but that is not the reason for this separation, Padawan. If it were possible, I would have you at my side, but you know as well as I do that your testing has long been scheduled." His hand brushed over Obi-Wan's tensely set shoulders, seeking to ease the other man's mutinous thoughts as he brought relaxation to his body. "The Sh'saa also have made their desire for only a single representative of the Republic very clear."

 

"But I could . . ." Obi-Wan's protest was effectively halted as Qui-Gon's lips closed over his.

 

"Tell me, if the Council truly had knowledge of what has transpired between us, would they have taken this course of action?"

 

Obi-Wan considered the question, even as his thoughts were diverted by the feel of Qui-Gon's body against his. "No," he answered slowly. "They would have dealt with the situation openly, not through diversion."

 

"Correct. And I believe that as long as they remain satisfied with our behavior this will go unmentioned." I hope, he added silently.

 

Anger flared suddenly within Obi-Wan, catching him off guard. "You're going to go along with this," he said, torn between disappointment and resentment. "I'm nearly old enough to take the trials, and still I am kept in check by you, by the Council."

 

"You still have a great deal to learn, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, his tone growing cold as he released his lover abruptly.

 

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed fire as he said, "I agreed to do my best to keep my emotions under control, and I have succeeded admirably thus far today."

 

"Until now," Qui-Gon answered, grappling with his arousal as the spark of anger continued to grow between them. "Your lessons have priority."

 

Obi-Wan moved so quickly that any other man than his Master would have been unprepared. He shoved at Qui-Gon, knocking him back against the wall. "And what of the lessons you taught last night, my Master?" he asked in a silken tone, a tone as softly dangerous as anything Qui-Gon had ever heard.

 

The blue of Qui-Gon's eyes darkened a notch and his chest vibrated with a low growl. "You're out of control, Obi-Wan."

 

"And what if I am?" came the challenge.

 

Qui-Gon reached up, and Obi-Wan felt all breath leave his body as he was spun, slammed, pinned against the wall with punishing force. "Then I'll have to teach you something about conquering your temper," he warned, and his mouth descended to take a brutal kiss.

 

Obi-Wan opened his body instantly, completely, accepted the tongue seeking his, as Qui-Gon's erection pressed against him.

 

And suddenly found himself sagging against the wall, all restraints removed, as Qui-Gon stepped back, no longer touching him.

 

"Now take hold of yourself and behave as the Jedi you are," Qui-Gon commanded him, with unmistakable harshness in his tone. There was a visible relaxation of Qui-Gon's face and body as he reasserted dominance over his emotions.

 

Though the curl of heat still remained close to the surface, Obi-Wan drew himself up slowly, closing his eyes as he sought to push his lust deep into a place where it could no longer threaten. His face burned with the effort, until at last he stood quietly, almost serene, the proper Jedi in every respect.

 

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan raised mild eyes to his Master, and Qui-Gon could clearly see the simmer there, a small reminder that this was not finished between them. The insolence of his tone was almost too much to bear.

 

Qui-Gon turned and picked up the datapad. "We will discuss this mission when I return, and in the meantime, you will learn as much as you can about the Sh'saa and their customs. Even though you are not accompanying me, this will be a good opportunity for you to explore their culture, and to occupy yourself with something to enhance your skills."

 

"Whatever you wish, Master." Obi-Wan brushed by Qui-Gon and settled into the chair opposite his Master's position, waiting expectantly. His docile posture was a mockery of Qui-Gon's authority.

 

Qui-Gon's irritation rose, despite his resolve, despite his intention to set an example for his apprentice. "Don't test me, Obi-Wan. We haven't time to hammer out the changes in our relationship. Not now."

 

"You weren't this concerned about the implications for your role as my Master when you were fucking me senseless this morning," Obi-Wan reminded him, but the words carried no venom.

 

The sting of truth was harsh, and Qui-Gon sighed. "Much depends on your ability to be correct, to be proper, while I'm away. You must be what I've grown to expect from you - a Padawan who can serve as a role model for the others, who is deserving of the respect of others. I sensed much...curiosity...from the Council."

 

"They do know!" Obi-Wan pounced. "I could feel it when they questioned me. What are they waiting for, then?"

 

"They have no proof. And we've done nothing to give them reason to separate us. At least, nothing that would be enough justification," Qui-Gon amended, thinking of the faces of the other Masters who chided him for Obi-Wan's display the previous day. "You're too close to your trials for them to risk reassigning you to another Master." A pause. "And even if they suspect, they must know I would never permit anything to interfere with your training."

 

Qui-Gon's possessive tone caused a shiver in Obi-Wan, and he smiled slightly. He watched as Qui-Gon began to pack, sorting through a variety of similar tunics and trousers and taking the most comfortable of the lot. "How long will it take?" he asked, calculating the travel time to and from the planet.

 

"Perhaps a week, no more," Qui-Gon answered. "And when I return, there will be issues to iron out between us. Some things will, of necessity, have to change. We cannot be ruled by passion."

 

There was nothing more to be said. Obi-Wan read aloud to his master as Qui-Gon packed, both well aware that neither of them was concentrating on the tasks at hand.

 

Now you're standing there tongue tied

You'd better learn your lesson well

Hide what you have to hide

And tell what you have to tell

You'll see your problems multiplied

If you continually decide

To faithfully pursue

The policy of truth

 

"These negotiations will be complex." Obi-Wan stood by the cabin entrance, watching as Qui-Gon stowed away his belongings in the small room he would occupy on his journey.

 

There had been no time for discussions or even idle chat. The past few days had been full of briefings for Qui-Gon and training for Obi-Wan. What little time the two Jedi did have alone was spent in an edgy truce, one that allowed neither the freedom to speak their thoughts.

 

"That they will, Padawan," Qui-Gon answered calmly, "as will your tests. However, I have no fear as to the outcome of either."

 

"And when you return? What then?" The demand in Obi-Wan's words was blatant, a rebellion against the shackles placed on them by the Code and their belief in it. "Will I be expected to act as if nothing happened?"

 

Qui-Gon straightened and studied his apprentice, weighing the mistrust his words represented against the depth of Obi-Wan's unease. "Do you truly believe I would dismiss what has happened between us so easily?" There was a dangerous edge to the older Jedi's voice and he crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye. "Do you?"

 

Obi-Wan glared up at his Master, anger and desire evident in his gaze. "How am I to know what will happen when you return? According to my Master I am supposed to concentrate on the moment, not the future."

 

Damning the brevity of time before the shuttle was scheduled to leave, Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan by the shoulders, backing him into the wall alongside the door and lowering his head until their faces were mere inches apart. "Then listen well, Padawan. I did not take this step lightly or easily, but now that we have chosen this path I will not retreat. When I return, we will discuss this until we both are sick of it. For now, know that you are mine, and I do not relinquish that which belongs to me." His fingers tightened on Obi-Wan's shoulders, then Qui-Gon's mouth descended, taking, ravaging, claiming, forcing Obi-Wan to accept the truth of his words.

 

The response was electric. Obi-Wan's hands dragged at Qui-Gon's hips, a desperate bid for whatever contact was possible between given the layers of their clothing. The younger man snarled at the loss of the lips on his and sought to latch onto any bit of flesh available. A gasp was wrenched from his lips as his robe and tunics were pushed off his shoulder and Qui-Gon's mouth closed on the now bare flesh there, suckling and biting the flesh at the junction of neck and shoulder, raising a dark bruise; a mark of ownership.

 

Not to be outdone, Obi-Wan waited, writhing, until his Master was satisfied with his brand, then wrenched open Qui-Gon's tunic. He sought, then found, the hollow at the base of the larger man's throat and feasted there for long moments, feeling the heat of the blood racing beneath the skin under his lips.

 

A knock sounded at the door, and they broke apart reluctantly, damning the world for intruding once again. "Master Jinn? We are ready to take off."

 

"Thank you Captain." Qui-Gon's controlled voice was at odds with his flushed face and lust-dark eyes but slowly he recovered, settling his garments about himself, covering the incriminating mark of his apprentice's possession. "You need to go now, Obi-Wan." He trailed a finger along the younger man's braid, reluctant to lose contact.

 

"Yes, Master." For the first time since hearing of the mission, the hint of rebellion was gone from Obi-Wan's voice. He ran his fingers over Qui-Gon's lips, then straightened, bringing up physical and mental shields to prepare himself for what was to come. "I will make you proud."

 

Cerulean eyes closed for a moment, then opened again, drinking in the sight of the man before them. "You already have, Obi-Wan."

 

There was no more time for words. One last caress, both physical and mental, then Obi-Wan was gone, leaving Qui-Gon to the solitude of the stars and his duty.

 

The shuttle lifted off and angled upwards, leaving a shrouded figure on the landing platform. Obi-Wan's robe whipped around his body, but he did not move from where he stood until the ship had vanished into the teeming hordes of traffic, gone as if it had never existed at all.


End file.
